Goodbye
by macy-terreth
Summary: Natasha receives a prepared letter from Clint while he's on a mission, and it's a death letter. At first she's shocked, and doesn't know how to react, but more letters keep coming, explaining inexplicable things. During this period, Natasha slowly uncovers what happened to Clint and that her best friend and partner might not even be dead... Clintasha. Summary sucks.
1. The First Letter

**Before you guys hate, I just want to let you know I wrote this FOR FUN!**

**This will have more only if you guys enjoyed it, as you know.**

**Please review!**

* * *

Dear Nat,

When you read this letter-mainly this sentence,you will know that I am dead.

I know what you're thinking. _Oh wow, Clint Barton just wrote a letter in preparation? That does not sound like him at all._

I know it doesn't sound like something your Clint would do, but it is.

And I'm betting right about now you want to slap me.

All jokes aside, I wrote this letter for you because I was afraid.

Afraid of losing you to someone else. Afraid of losing you in a battle with death. I was afraid of losing you in general, Natasha, and I knew that if I did lose you, I could never forgive myself. I wrote this letter because I knew that you would read it, and because I needed to tell you something.

When I first met you, I didn't know what to think.

Mainly because my mind was occupied with thoughts of_ Damn, she's hot!_  
Fine, I'm cutting to the chase, you should have known better than to take a letter-even if it's a death note-seriously if it's written by Clint Barton.

Do you remember when you first joined SHIELD and you weren't supposed to join me on that mission because Fury hadn't finished his paperwork or whatnot?

"What are you going to do now?" You asked me.

"Oh you know, do my mission, hurt people." I replied, and then you asked me,

"By yourself?"

And then I asked you. "Aren't you coming?"

That was our first mission together. I'll never forget the way you moved when you fought, that smile on your face as you took down more and more of the opponents. It was as if you were born to fight.

I also want to apologize. I lied to you, Nat. I lied about this mission. I broke my promise. I promised I'd be back to see your face, your hair, the flame in your porcelain cheeks.

I'm pretty sure that when future Clint was sitting in a ditch or where ever, bleeding to death, he was thinking about coming back to you, caressing your face and kissing your beautiful red lips.

I knew I was going to die on that mission, so I'm writing this letter, and I'm going to give it to Maria so that when I die, I know it will land in your hands.

Please forgive me Nat, that's all I want.

When I die, I'm afraid of losing you, your voice, your smile, everything. Please don't forget me.

Future Clint and me now are imagining our last conversation together.

You forcing yourself to smile, even though you know you're about to cry. "What are you going to do now?" You asked me.

"Oh you know, do my mission, hurt people." I replied.

I watched your eyes glisten. "By yourself?"

And I had to nod, as your tears showed up.

I love you so much Nat, and I just want to say, I'm sorry.

I love you more than anything you'll ever know.

Love,

Clint

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**Hoped you guys liked! If you want more, please review! ;)**


	2. Reactions

**Hey guys!**

**Just a girl who should be doing other things other than spending her time on Tumblr...**

**Anyway, enjoy! :)**

**Please review, because I will come back and review your work-if you have any.**

**:) Disclaimer: Do not own Marvel at all.**

**Tony: IM3 is still so far away... Make sure you go see it!**

* * *

Natasha sat there, just holding the letter, dumbfounded.

_I am dead._ The words kept replaying.

The words had imprinted on her brain and it took her a while to register the shock and just let everything slowly sink in, allowing her shocked brain understanding of what the hell had just happened.

_Clint Barton was dead._

She started laughing in disbelief, shaking in grief. Everything seemed just so strange and unnatural it only seemed normal to laugh.

_He was supposed to come home today. He can't be dead._ Natasha's head hurt as she kept shaking, eyes reading over the piece of paper over and over, just not understanding what just happened. She wanted it _to be _a joke, but it was all terrifyingly real.

Natasha sat up from her chair, shoved the letter into an alarmed Maria's chest and left the kitchen full of shocked and worried Avengers very quickly, sobs morphing to tears echoing down the hall.

Maria held out the letter and read it over, forcing herself not to gasp. The SHIELD agent bit her lip so hard that blood withdrew from underneath it. Carefully, she gave the letter to Tony, who read it aloud to everyone else.

You could say there were mixed reactions. You could say they were all grieving.

Like Natasha, Tony started laughing at first, just long hard cruel laughter that echoed around the room. Like Natasha, he ran out as quickly as his legs could carry him and disappeared into the workshop, locking the door and hiding there.

Iron Man cried quietly to himself, because he couldn't let the others see him.

Even as tears ran down Pepper's cheeks, she forced herself to continue her paperwork because she knew that Natasha wouldn't want to be bothered.

Steve didn't understand, everything just didn't fit. It was like he had woken up from the ice again, everybody that he knew just died or had moved on and he was just... Stuck. When it all cleared, the super soldier found room to mourn for the prankster and he found room to comfort everyone else.

Bruce stormed outside, raged to Central Park and hid in the woods for exactly five hours. He returned shirtless with tattered pants, eyes puffy and swollen, and mud smeared all over them. There were reports of the Hulk raging through Central Park later that evening, but nobody asked why he was seen throwing trees around. They already knew.

Thor crying was disastrous. Maria tried to force him to keep his mind off of it by calling Jane over and explaining the situation to her. Jane tried to make sure that he wouldn't think about it, but little did they know that all through the time he was spending with Jane, he was mentally crying.  
Nobody saw Fury's reaction, but the man did mourn, suffering in silence.

There was a funeral, and it took place just outside of a nearby forest. It was not open casket, and they did not have Clint's body, but there was a funeral to honor Clint for everything he'd done for SHIELD, the country and for them personally.

Tony Stark cried. He cried openly and publicly when he went up there to speak a few words about what Clint had done for him.

Tony had only gotten to "And he was a nice guy overall, a good prankster, and most importantly a good friend-" When his voice cracked and he had to sob throughout the rest of his words. Nobody had seen Tony cry until just then and it was not a pretty sight.

However, out of all the Avengers, none of them hurt as much as Natasha. Her face was dry when she went up there and when she finished speaking, she still hadn't cried.

When it was finished, Maria gently came up behind Natasha and held her shoulder. "I'm so sorry." She whispered.

Natasha had turned around and managed a weak smile. "It's okay." Then the redheaded assassin reached down and pulled her black high heels off, leaving only her stocking covered feet. "Hold these for me, will you?" And then she turned and ran off, without looking back.

She didn't want to return. She wanted to run forever. Natasha kept running into the forest, tears blurring up her vision and feet scraping against the sharp rocks in the ground. She still didn't stop running.

She was running so far away from the funeral, but she still didn't feel like she was escaping its grasp.

Clint was still dead. This thought only made her feet pound into the ground faster, running and leaping over logs.

_Clint..._

She fumbled and tripped rather ungracefully after a sharp rock impeded her skin, springing drops of blood to the surface. Instead of getting up, Natasha lay there, pounding the ground in pure frustration and anger. She allowed herself to slip into a mass state of depression, but no tears came out.

_Maybe I never loved Clint. I'm not crying._

Pepper found her half an hour later, completely tired but face still dry.

Gently helping dead-weight Natasha up to her feet, Pepper tried to comfort her, but there were no words she could offer to this distraught woman.

"Why?" Natasha whispered, slumping against the other redheaded woman. "Why was he the one who died?"

Pepper didn't answer, just tried to calm her down and helped her back to the other Avengers.  
Natasha couldn't sleep. She sat up, legs crossed and looked over to the empty spot beside her. She wished he was there; he was supposed to be there today.

He was supposed to be. But he wasn't.

She lay back down, holding the air that was supposed to be where he was. Natasha pulled down his pillow and held out, but was interrupted by a rather loud rustling noise, like paper fluttering on the ground. She sat up once again and looked over the side of the bed, brushing her hair out of her eyes.

There was a paper envelope sitting on the floor, with two words on the top of it.

_To Nat,_ it read. Natasha scooped it up off the ground and tore the letter open, anxiety and fear filling her up.

_Please be okay_, she thought, and unfolded the letter.

* * *

**Texts from Tony and Pepper:**

**Tony: What do I do!? PEPPER!**

**Pepper: What's happening? Tony?**

**Tony: He's a supersoldier OW THAT SMARTS STOP HURTING ME STEVE**

**Pepper: ... Tony, you took Steve, someone who's from the 40's mind you, to see Iron Man 3 in 3D?!**

**Tony: OW STOP HE'S GRABBING ME! WHAT DO I DO?!**

**Pepper: Let him hide his face in your jacket and feed his gummy worms or whatever it is you superheroes eat.**

**Tony: You can help yourself to anything from my credit cards-you know my info.**

**Pepper: You're welcome.**


	3. Second Letters

**Disclaimer: Don't own Marvel**

**Please review!**

* * *

So hey, Nat.

Yes, I didn't start with a nauseating 'Dear Nat' again, because I know for some reason you hate that.  
And also, yes, this is a second letter, which might be alarming to you at first.

Truth is, I wrote this letter after I wrote the first letter, because I always want you to feel like I'm still here, still talking to you.

Still yours.

I know that you tried to sleep, but couldn't-probably because you just had a funeral for me (I'm guessing it was today or yesterday or maybe tomorrow?)-and this fell out of the bed.

I'm not going to lie, but if I did come back, I would have shredded this letter and never would let you read it. But if you're reading this, then I guess I'm not back.

Wow, this is Inception. I'm telling the future.

Nat, this mission that I barely told you anything about and you thought it was normal-sometimes I'm afraid you trust me too much-it was basically a suicide mission that Fury sent me on.

It sounds simple at first, almost like a training mission. Uh huh, just waltz right in, they even give you a nice car to drive in that place, convince the target you're their friend, have a nice chat with them, do whatever you have to do to get the intel downloaded onto your chip, and get out of there before they suspect you.

But what he doesn't tell you-Maria told me-is that the place is heavily guarded, the intel is heavily guarded, the dude is heavily guarded, and apparently even his toilet is heavily guarded.

I knew I was going to die when I went for that mission, Nat, I knew that there was no return.

It's just that sometimes a guy has to hope. And I hoped that I could come back to you, in all your glowing perfection and glory.

Yep, getting sappy here. Deal with it.

I'm kidding. Nat, don't worry. I'm always with you, no matter where you go. I'll always be in your heart.  
I love you, Natasha Romanoff.

Love,

Clint

* * *

She couldn't stand it. Did he have to make her feel like she was going to cry every time? She wanted to crumple the letter up and throw it so far away so that she'd never have to see it again, but it was all that was left of him.

So Natasha kept it. Even though everything inside of her hurt, Natasha slipped the letter back into the envelope from where it came from, and tucked it away, hiding it from her view, but she was glad that it was still in her possession.

Closing her eyes, Natasha felt the signals of tears welling in her eyes, and for once, she regretted that she couldn't cry.

The next morning, Natasha was just about ready to snap at anybody, and it was surely showing in her eyes. The smart ones steered clear of angering her, but Tony was upset and too exhausted to put up with any of this. She'd tried to ignore him because he was Tony, but he was starting to get on her last nerve when he made a joke about how she was now truly a widow because Clint died.

Natasha would try to calm herself down and continue what she was doing, but then Tony added that she ate Clint because she was Black Widow, and that was when she completely lost it. She attacked him.

Literally, she jumped on him, straddled his chest and pushed the tip of her pistol deep into her forehead.

"What the hell's wrong with you?" She demanded angrily, eyes stinging. "Do you think this is a joke?"

Tony's Adam's apple bobbed in his neck as he swallowed hard. "Nothing is wrong with me. Is lightening the mood against the law? If you haven't noticed, Legolas is dead."

Natasha punched him hard in the face, a hard sound of cold flesh hitting bone and his nose cracking. "He didn't deserve to die," she spat bitterly, "You did."

As blood streamed steadily down Tony's face, Maria pried angry Natasha off of injured Tony, and led her away. Natasha broke out of the agent's grip, face fixed in an angry-but calm look.

"Natasha, you need to-"

"I don't need your help!" She hissed angrily at the agent. "I'm Natasha Romanoff! I don't need anyone's help!"

Maria stood silently in the hallway staring at the redhead in front of her. "I know how you feel. I'm so sorry."

"No. You _don't._ You don't know how I feel. That's just what everybody says, I'm sorry, I know how you feel, but in reality, you have no idea how much it hurts and how it feels!"

"No, _you_ don't understand." Maria looked up from her boots, expression hardening and crossing her arms. "I've been in any situation imaginable and I know how you feel, whether you agree with me or not. You _can't be_ mad at Clint for not telling you he was going on a suicide mission."

"I'm not mad at him because he didn't tell me he was going to die," Natasha's voice cracked slightly and now she glared down at her shoes. "I'm mad because he did die. How could he just leave me? I know it's not his fault, but why was he the one who had to die? Why not someone else?"

Maria exhaled slowly, pursing her lips.

"Why not me?" Natasha asked at last, whispers leaving her lips.

The two women stood in the hall together for a long time, just in silence and understanding of one another.


	4. A Walk Gone Wrong

**Wow... That was fun to write.**

**Did any of you go to Comic-Con? **

**LOL, you missed me. :) But it was fun, even though it wasn't the REAL thing.**

**So I didn't meet Stan Lee or Robert Downey Jr., Chris Evans, Chris Hemsworth, Scarlett Johansson, Mark Ruffalo, Samuel L. Jackson, Cobie Smulders, Jeremy Renner, Tom Hiddleston if that's what you're wondering.**

**You missed me fangirling. Extreme fangirling.**

**Please review! :)**

* * *

He grunted and twisted in the dirt, writhing at the uncomfortable heat and the dryness of the ground radiating from the ground. He moaned, hands numb and clutching at dry ground.

More dirt flew up to his face from the dry wind, forcing his open mouth to fill up with it.

He needed to move, but he _couldn't._

His torso was numb, his stomach, his face, everything_ hurt too much._ He forced his eyes open, only to be greeted by blinding sunlight and more dirt falling into him, causing them to sting. Moaning, he convulsed and forced himself to rotate, and dug his fingers into the ground, trying to pull himself forward.

He couldn't see very well, just an expanse of light going far and long, and then a blurred shadow kneeling down in front of him, tucking their long hair behind their ear.

He summoned all his strength to whisper one word. "...Nat?" And unwillingly, Clint succumbed to darkness pulling at the corners of his mind.

* * *

She didn't eat.

She didn't sleep.

And sometimes, she didn't feel like breathing.

Her name is Natasha Romanoff.

She wonders if she should even be alive at all, and sometimes, she thinks things would be better if she weren't.

Suicide is not the answer. Pitching herself off a cliff wouldn't be right. Killing herself; shooting herself, none of that would do anything to bring Clint back.  
Not everyone is the same definition of normal. For Natasha, normal meant suffering in silence. She didn't need anybody's help.

But one thing she didn't understand was why it hurt so much. She'd watched many other people die and she _was_ sad but remained calm. It had been three days now; why was she still in pain? Why couldn't she sleep? Why couldn't she eat?

Still, Natasha didn't give in. Part of her believed that Clint was still alive-still out there somewhere, struggling to come back, while the other half of her told her he was dead, and there was no return. It told her that she should just give in, forget, and move on.

But Natasha never stopped believing. She believed he would find his way back to her.

The assassin stepped out into the rain, forcing herself to believe she was just taking a minor normal stroll. Nothing in the Avengers rule book was against that, right? And it's not like she was thinking of leaping off a goddamn cliff so she could join Clint in death.

This would not be a Juliet and Romeo story. They died. It was not a happy ending, despite what many people believe.

For once, the redhead Russian just wanted to blend in; forget everything and pretend she was out buying groceries or whatever normal single women did. Natasha was wary of where she stepped, grey hood shadowing part of her face, allowing wisps of red hair to slide out while the black trench coat did nothing to keep itself dry.

There was an echoing scream, and immediately, the Avenger looked up.

A shrill cry rung in her ears and through the rain again as two men in black ski masks grabbed a child from the wet sidewalk and pointed a gun. The poor kid cried loudly, whimpering as he was yanked by the man using his red sweater.

Natasha ran.

Through the pelting rain, through the flocked crowd of helpless and selfish people to the two men, and stood in front of them, rain cascading down her soaked coat.

"Let the kid go." Natasha allowed a transfusion of anger and a manifestation of her depression to boil into her words and hidden expression.

One of the burly men spoke with a Jersey accent. "Or what?" He sneered, and pointed his rather large gun at her. "What're you going to do, lady? Run along now, because I suggest you should be very afraid of my gun."

She tilted her head, and smiled. Natasha was sure both the men could see her scary smile, because she saw their grips slightly faltering. "You picked the worst day to mess with me." And she jumped for them.

They were a handful of screams that harmonized with the pitch of gunshots that were left ringing in the air, only to be followed by death silence. The kid ran back to his mother, and Natasha had her boot the man's face, imbedding it into the sidewalk, the other man lying unconscious beside him. She held both his arms behind him, and as she panted, breaths spaced out with angry depression, the man dared ask her, "_Who are you?_"

To that, she responded, "An Avenger," she pulled off her thoroughly soaked hood, revealing her already soaked flaming hair. "And your worst nightmare."  
The police arrived, early enough to catch the thieves, but all too late to catch Natasha. She'd escaped the uniformed officers barely, struggling to walk.

She'd been shot.

Hands pressing against her wound, she was sure that she had suffered from a lot of damage. The bullets had entered in her stomach, shoulders and near her chest. Natasha watched as the rainwater on the streets changed to a sickening pale red, and the steady drip-drop of her blood echoed in the dirty secluded alleyway she was heading down. Finally her legs ignored her will to stand, giving in to her weakness and pain.

She fell, knees meeting the dirty alleyway first. On her knees, it was only then when Natasha began to come to the conclusion that if she died here, no one would find her. This alleyway was dirty and abandoned, and rats would surely find her decaying body before the others did.

She mistook her tears for rain.

The air suddenly filled with an eerie silence, and before Natasha even heard the distinctive crackle that most people would consider oblivion, it arrived, and she was struck from the spot that she once stood.

In literal terms, well... That was literal terms. A lightning bolt five times hotter than the surface of the sun pounded into her back and she didn't have time to scream.

Everything hurt.

Everything burned.

The line between reality and fantasy, pain and happiness, anger and depression, everything faded away, burning with her.

She was only out for a span of 28.4 seconds, but she considered it an eternity. There was a loud pounding noise in her ears, everything tingled, and she couldn't hear. Just a faint never-dying shrill line of beep and silence. Blood cascaded everywhere around her, and her arms would not heed to what she begged them to do. Natasha asked them to get her up, out of the rain and run, but no part of her body seemed to comprehend.

She felt as if she could not connect her mind with her body. She felt as if she was within another person. She couldn't place what was going on; why she heard Maria's scream, or why suddenly someone was kneeling down beside her. That someone morphed into Clint's face, expression filled with... What was it? Frustration, anger, pity? She could read his lips, and they were begging her to stay with him, but she just wanted to tell him that she couldn't.

Clint's image shimmered and rippled as if Natasha was underwater, unable to hear or place what his lips were moving. The last thing she saw before she completely blacked out was a small vision of the mission in Budapest and his smile.

"Clint..."

* * *

He felt a cup being held to his lips, but he pushed it away. The dark was scaring him, and he preferred when he was in the blinding sunlight then now, in the never-ending abyss of darkness.

"Please," he moaned to whomever might be listening, through his dry cracked lips. "Too dark."

A thickly accented female voice answered his moans and helpless pleads. "You must drink. Keep up your strength."

This time, Clint slowly accepted the water, and drank it, throat exhausting from this simple feat. "Who are you?" He asked to the dark.

"Am stranger to you," Wow, how much more vague could they get? "Just as you are to these parts."

"Did you save me?" Clint tried to find his way in the bleak darkness, wondering how this person could see.

"Yes."

"Well uh... Thank you."

"You must not talk. Suffering from sunstroke."

That probably explained his pounding headache. "Then why are you talking to me?"

"Talk is like desert sand. I find pointless, dry and endless. Best not to answer directly."

Accepting this saviour's unsatisfying answer, Clint closed his eyes, oblivious to the darkness and forced himself to rest.

* * *

"You honestly _had_ to use lightning to place her location, and not a GSP?" Steve threw his hands up in the air exasperatedly, and continued pacing around the front of the med bay where a very injured Natasha was lying. "Or tracking device or whatever the robot android things do?!"

Thor smiled-or tried to-sheepishly. "I do offer my sincerest apologies, but it was Man Of Iron who suggested we do so!"

The plan to find a missing Black Widow could not have gone worse. Thor held his hammer in the air, shot lightning out to find Natasha, and found her bleeding to death in an alleyway, part of which injuries were caused by lightning, and the other half were shots. It was _supposed_ to be very simple and effective.

Theoretically.

In truth, she almost died so Tony could see which way was more effective, asking JARVIS to simply triangulate her position, or have Thor send out lightning bolts across the sky. In the end, he decided that a very angered Nick Fury and a possibly-Tony hadn't told her yet-even more pissed-off Pepper were not worth trying that ever again.

"Hulk could have found her in better condition!" Steve continued, and Bruce looked up from his notepad.

"It's true, you know," he chimed in, and earned a small glare from Tony. The two may have been Science Bros, but there were times when even best friends would become conflicted and non affiliated with one another.

Tony pulled his lips into a scowl. "Shut your mouth Bruce." To this, Bruce rolled his eyes and looked back down to his notebook.

Maria frowned, and pulled her arms up to cross them over her chest in frustration. "You know what's wrong with all of you?" She asked, standing straight up from the wall she was leaning on, and did not wait for an answer, rounding on all the remaining Avengers in the hallway. "Tony, you are two-year-old. Thor, never listen or do what Tony tells you to. Bruce, do you even care that Natasha's suffering from not just fatal injuries, but from the fact that her best friend and long-term partner is dead? And Steve, please stop whining, I could do with less of a headache right now." She placed her hand on her head, and leaned back against the wall in defeat.

The rest of the Avengers were in shock with Maria just telling them what she hated about all of them in practically one breath. There wasn't even enough space for them to catch their own breaths. Tony's cell started ringing rather obnoxiously and rudely, and there was a split second where he doubted if he should pick it up or not.

Tony picked it up in the end, because it was Pepper calling. "Hey, how's it going?"

_"Natasha's hurt."_ Was all Pepper said, and then a long silence followed from both ends, as Tony held the StarkTech cell and licked his lips several times.

"Uh... Yeah..."

"What the hell was going on?!" She screamed, and he had to hold the phone at arm's length because her voice vibrated the speakers from where the sound came from. "What did you do, Tony? Tell me now!"

"Uh... Heh, you see Pep, hey, did I tell you how beautiful you look today-"

"Stop with the small talk, Tony, I want to know what happened, how the hell it happened and now."

"Can I just start by saying it's not my fault?"

"Although I somehow know it's not entirely true, just go on explaining to me."

"Well..." Tony stopped mid-sentence, and then proceeded to do something he knew he was going to regret later. "Oh no, I-I-, Pepper, I'm losing your connection! Kshhh kahh..."

"Tony, quit it. Just tell me what the hell happened."

"Uh... Gotta go." He left his lips in the O shape and quickly shut off his phone, sighing in relief and fear. He had escaped her this time, but she was going to kill him the next time she saw him.

If Natasha didn't sit up and kill him with her bare hands first.

* * *

**Stupid fan-fiction doesn't let me invent my own words.**

**Tony: Well it's not their fault, they're just doing their job...**

**Loki: I find this internet to be a complete and utter waste of time.**

**Me: LOKKIII! LET US DO THE PRANKING OF PEOPLE.**

**Loki: ... Da hell's wrong wit chu?**

**Me: Okay, who taught Loki new memes? **

**Loki: I AM NOT A MEME.**

**Me: What's happening in this conversation? (.-.) Wut?**

**Darcy: *looks at Loki and then her face lights up.* NOW I KNOW WHO YOU REMIND ME OF! GRUMPY CAT!**

**Yeah so... Review. If you dare!**


	5. Where did I put my memory?

**Disclaimer: Don't own Marvel.**

**Sorry it's short, I kind of have a little writer's block.**

**Please review?**

* * *

She found a third letter.

Right after she escaped the medical bay that she despised so much, Natasha found a third letter from Clint. Instead of just ripping it open very quickly and anxiously, she held it to her chest and closed her eyes, just sitting there, breathing with the envelope to her chest.

She didn't have time to try to torture Tony, because she was wasting it away in the dark, on computers and only talking to JARVIS, trying to figure out where the hell he ended up. Maria told her that the mission required him to disappear to Istanbul, but he was seen in Croatia suddenly, and the last stop that they ever heard of him again was in Budapest.

_Budapest._ A lump in Natasha's throat swelled to the size of her heart. _What was he doing in Budapest?_

The world had too many questions, and not enough answers to ever satisfy. Natasha was getting dangerously skinny now; teetering on the edge of complete bone-and-skin. She wouldn't catch sight of herself in the mirror, afraid she would go insane, but Pepper was terribly worried.

Natasha's fingertips were blue and even her catsuit-which was formfitting-hung limp on her, showing ghosts of her ribs. Her eyes were sunken in, hollow and her cheekbones were very visible. She was too pale, even for her normal pale skin tone, and Pepper worried that if Natasha kept this up, she might die. So Pepper initiated the _Feed Natasha_ plan, where everybody had to volunteer and make sure Natasha got at least a sandwich or a bag of chips into her sunken stomach. They thought she was starving herself.

She was weak. Her fingers shook as she typed, and she had become somewhat photo sensitive, and a recluse. If she stepped out into the hallway, she felt as though the light blinded her. And Natasha was cold. Not just normal winter cold, but frigid, frozen, as if Jack Frost was stroking his icy fingers through your hair, letting his touch linger on your skin.

Someone knocked on the door of her dark room. She got up, and very ungracefully, walked to open up the door, squinting at the light glaring into her room. Natasha couldn't see who the person was, and it was because the light behind them was blocking out their face.

"Who is-Oh." The light around the person faded as her eyes slowly adjusted.

"_Oh_? You lock yourself in your room for a week without eating and ignore our countless texts and calls and all I get is an _oh_?!" A very flustered and angry Darcy stormed into the room, gripping a breakfast tray so tightly her knuckles bleached white. "I mean seriously Nat, I get that you're looking for Clint, but would it hurt so much to just eat a little?" Darcy confiscated half of the sandwich on the silver platter-I kid you not-and took a big bite out of it. Mouth still full, she continued. "You're not fat Nat, feel free to binge on food all you want. Because if I had your body, that's what I'd do."

Keeping her head down, Natasha slowly closed the door behind Darcy and instead turned on a small lamp, dark enough for Natasha to remain comfortable, but light enough for Darcy to see and eat. "But you're not fat," was all Natasha could manage.

"I know," Darcy says wistfully, taking another big bite out of the sandwich, "Just saying. But you should still eat. You're not exactly beautiful as a skeleton."

She could not talk. Her mouth was too dry, throat too hoarse.

"Here," the quirky assistant of Jane handed the cup of apple juice to the assassin, and swallowed the sandwich that was in her mouth. Natasha eagerly took it and gulped down the juice, which only made her thirstier.

"Thank you," she croaked, and Darcy continued talking.

"So did you find anything?" she asked, bending over to look at Natasha's open laptop, and taking another bite of her sandwich. "About Clint?"

She was grateful for Darcy's worry, but she was exhausted, and there were many things that were still left unanswered. Natasha swallowed hard, and instead of telling Darcy, told her, "No."

Darcy raised an eyebrow at her, but didn't question any further. "O. Kay..." She allowed Natasha to push her out of the room, but not without calling, "I'll see you later than, okay?"

Natasha nodded hastily and slammed the door after her. If there was one thing she had decided, it was that she was going torture or kill the person who hurt Clint. She was sure of it. Natasha marched over to her desk, and without anymore hesitation or pain, ripped the envelope open.

_Nat._

_I only have a couple of days left here in the tower, and I grow more and more wary for the remaining days I have left with you._

_It hurts me how much I know that the end is coming and have to force myself to stay happy as if this mission is nothing. I try to hang on to every piece of time we have left together, and despite it being better that you're happy, I wish I could just tell you, because we should never lie to each other._

_Even though you're Black Widow and you're basically the hardest person in the world to trust._

_You just stirred and I almost crumpled this whole letter up, but you went back to sleep, rolling over onto your side._

_Yes, I am writing this letter as you lay sleeping beside me, because I think about how many more peaceful nights we will have together. I think about how I'm going to scream in my nightmares without you; how I'll miss your soft breathing beside me, your red hair in my face, your beautiful face. I think about how much I'll miss just talking to you until you or me get too tired to continue, and drift off to sleep._

_I'd rather die than see you cry over me, so I guess this is what I'm choosing. Not really though, because I know you'll cry once you've found out I'm dead. Admit it, you know you will._

_I'm smiling. You just mumbled my name, and the crease in between your eyebrows from when you were just frowning is gone. You're smiling. Yeah, ditch the frown, Tasha, you look much more beautiful without it._

_Now you're frowning as you read this. Don't._

_I swear, if I manage to find a way out of this, I will storm back into that tower, I will not clean off my blood and bandage my wounds, I will climb up those vents and surprise you. I promise. Please believe in me. Please don't forget me, please don't forget Clint, your ridiculously handsome boyfriend who is amazing at everything. I promise, I will be back._

_Always have my love,_

_Clint._  
"I've forgotten him." Natasha didn't realize it until she said it aloud to herself, but she was starting to lose him. His voice, his laugh, and sometimes, even his face; all of it was fading, swirling away into some dark abyss, never to be found again. "NO!" She screamed, clutching at her head and swiping at the objects on her desk, sending the vase on it shattering on the ground. She collapsed to her knees, leaving the letter on the floor away from her, and for once, Natasha Romanov allowed herself to cry. She allowed herself to let out large, hideous sobs of pains, screaming in agony and covering her weak thin fingers over her face.

She could feel it herself. Natasha was going crazy in her depression.

* * *

**Bored? Reviews keep me in business.**


	6. An Angry Natasha Will Shoot Anyone

**So you guys are probably wondering...**

_**Where the hell has the author crawled off to?!**_

_**Why the hell isn't she updating?!**_

_**Did she die in a hole? Cause I hope she did!**_

_**WTF AUTHOR? YOU LEAVE FOR LIKE A GAZILLION DAYS! F YOU! GTFO!**_

**Well sorry. I really am. But I have homework to do, exams to study for, air to breathe, food to eat, life to live, friends to talk to, books to read, Tumblr to... tumble! **

**But I digress. The truth is, I have had some writer's block. Okay make that one of the worst cases of writer's block I have ever gone through! I'm having a dry spell-please do your best to put up with me.**

**Tony: Well you can't blame them for hating you. I mean, you're just that kind of person.**

**Clint: For once, I agree with Stark.**

**Natasha: No comment. **

**Steve: Don't hurt her feelings-she'll find some way to kill you off horrifically!**

**Thor: I AGREE WITH THE PATRIOTIC ONE. DESPITE THE AUTHORESS' ABSENCE, HER ATTEMPT TO WRITE HAS BEEN ENDLESS, YET PROVING FUTILE.**

**Bruce: That's basically insulting her in a polite way. And somehow she got rid of her writer's block by taking these weird personality quizzes about which of the Avengers should be her boyfriend! **

**Tony: Ooh... Who did she get?**

**Bruce: She got you first. And then Loki. And Clint is the poor guy who's fallen for her and can't get up.**

**Natasha: What?**

**Clint: NOTHING! SH... You guys!**

**Loki: *to me* My dear authoress, you are awfully silent.**

**Me: No one plans a murder out loud.**

**Clint: Oooh, snap Tony!**

* * *

Something worse than losing your best friend, partner, and boyfriend, was losing him and forgetting about him.

Natasha was suddenly mad. Maybe crazy mad, but for sure, she was a frustrated, hating, meaningless angry. At everyone, but mostly Fury. He was the one who sent Clint on this mission. He was the one who knew Clint would die. So why? Why would he just send one of his Avengers on a fricking suicide mission? The name is written with no-return all over it. She stood up, adrenaline pumping in her veins, and stormed straight out of her dark room, momentarily blinded by the hallway light.

She was going to find Fury. And you didn't want to know what she was about to do to him.

Never mind, you'll find out. Natasha stormed straight down the hall, guns tight in her hands. She marched straight to the lab, and kicked down the door, watching it fall to the floor. Bruce and Tony looked up right away and stared at the broken door that had ripped off the hinges, and then at a fuming red-faced Natasha standing on it.

"WHERE'S FURY?" She demanded, pointing the pistols at the gaping men.

Tony was the first to speak, after shuffling closer to Bruce. "On the roof with Maria."

He didn't have to say anything else, and he couldn't, because Natasha had already bolted away, no doubt going to find Fury.

"Hey, Fury," Tony picked up his wrist comm of the lab table, "Romanoff is coming. And she's not pleased."

"Not now, Stark!" Fury barked back, "I'm busy!"

"Do you feel like dying in front of Natasha's pistols today, or would you rather grab your one eye and run?"

"Stark... What are you trying to tell me?"

"Romanoff is coming with her pistols. And she wants to murder you. What did you do to make her so mad? I mean, I know you were the one who sent Barton on that stupid suicide mission in the first place, but honestly, what dd you do now? Because you reaaally ticked her off this time."

There was a small crackle in the connection, and Tony tensed, staring up at Bruce, who stared back at him, eyes wide like an owl. "Fury?" He whispered, but then, he was answered by a scream, and a loud, cracking gunshot.

No words were needed as Tony put on his suit and Bruce just ran straight out to observe the situation, and how horrible the injuries were.

"GO TO HELL!"

She shot the Director again, but he dropped to the ground. Maria aimed her gun at Natasha, but the assassin leapt out-of-the-way before the agent could shoot.

"Stay out of this!" Natasha snarled at Maria, and aimed another shot at Fury. "This is between Fury and I!"

"And it's my job to intercept it!" Fired back Maria, and she shot at Natasha's right hand, knocking that one pistol out of her hand. Natasha's hand was bleeding pretty badly, she was almost certain that Maria had hit one of her arteries, and Maria had also landed a pretty nasty kick at Natasha's face, so her lip was steadily pouring blood out

Fury and Maria had ducked behind a bunch of cardboard boxes full of stuff for Tony's workshop, and Natasha was hiding behind one of the smaller helicopters that were there. They occasionally fired shots at each other, and Natasha would swear or call them vulgar names in Russian-or at least that's what the others thought she was saying, they could only tell by her tone of voice-and then Natasha just went rogue and fired her Widow's Bite at them. It was lashing out, annihilating the boxes, and Fury, along with Maria, fired countless shots at her as she stood out in the open, firing at the cardboard boxes and them, but the fiery redheaded assassin stood her ground.

She finally reached Fury as Maria and him both ran out of ammo. "You filthy son of a-" And she had almost grabbed him, but she stiffened, body tense, her eyes rolled back to the back of her head, and she fell to the ground in a limp heap.

What stood behind her shocked even Fury. A still very prim and proper dressed, shaken-up looking Pepper, taser in one hand, set to the highest setting, and a binder in the other. She looked up from Natasha and then at Fury, licking her lips very quickly. Turning on her heel, Pepper walked back to the rooftop door, dropping the taser into a shocked Darcy's hands, and then opening the door to walk back in. Tony looked surprised to see her, took one look at Natasha lying on the ground, and sympathetically put his armored arm around Pepper's shoulders, walking her back into the tower.

Natasha's eyes ripped open to be blinded by the bright light. Her eyes slowly dilated, and then adjusted, and her worst fears were realized as her brain constricted around the fact that a), she was restrained to a bed, b), she was wearing normal clothes, a t-shirt and sweatpants, so she had none of her weapons, and c), there were sensors taped to her head, and the landscape was horribly foreign. She was confined in the med bay. She had finally lost herself, along with Clint. There was no one with her to hear her screams.

* * *

Clint's eyes were greeted by a blinding white light. His brain, along with his stunned eyes, adjusted slowly, and for a moment he thought he was back in the medical bay in the Avengers' tower. "Nat?" He moaned, moving slightly to try to find her fiery red hair. He couldn't locate her in the blinding light. It pulsated once brightly in his eyes, forcing him to squint.

Everything hurt suddenly, like a burning epidemic pain inside of him. He gave a loud moan, since he couldn't summon himself to say anything else. Where was that girl who had saved him? Wasn't she supposed to help him? So many questions were left unanswered as Clint couldn't talk.

And suddenly, the light cleared rapidly, taking the pain with it, and the landscape laid itself out in front of Clint. Strangely enough, it was a long expanse of desert, sand that stretched over miles and miles of land. "That's weird," he managed to mutter, and swung his legs over the side of the hospital bed he was lying on. And then it took him about two seconds to absorb the shock that he could move and he felt...

Healthy.

Even more than healthy. Rejuvenated, recharged, as if he had old batteries that had been exhausted long ago, and he just got a new change. Clint didn't realize his lips were quirking upwards as he landed on his feet, stretching his arms and squinting into the horizon of the desert. So he was in a desert, in the middle of nowhere with only a hospital bed. But he felt like he could run until he got somewhere.

A silhouette stood about the length of two football fields away from him-something he had overlooked. His keen eyesight could make out their hair billowing in the wind behind them, and was it just him or was their hair... Red? Clint shook the thought of Natasha being with him off, although deep inside he wished it was her. This was truly the strangest mission he had ever been on.

So Clint, very slowly and warily, walked over to join the silhouette, hoping that it wasn't a mirage, and that it was Natasha, or some friendly person who knew where he could go to get to Natasha. It was one of those times where he was glad that he wasn't wearing thick and heavy gear in the humid and sweltering weather.

* * *

**Loki: There is something really intriguing about this girl that...I feel...no...but...that something pulls me towards her. As if the bee's to honey. Why yes, of course she's a sentimental being! but... she's different from the others, like there's this correspondence between us. Almost like she see's far beyond my stoned wall that I so desperately built up to shield myself. Nonetheless, she's a distraction to my plans, I can't be getting side tracked for such a petty mortal. Though, despite that, such a being is worthy of living. I desire to keep her alive.**

**Natasha: That's great. Now get out of my room before I kill you.**


	7. Choose Your Own Path

**To excuse for the wait, I made it kind of long. **

**Leave a review if you absolutely hate it; leave a review if you absolutely loved it or just thought it was mediocre.**

**Got any suggestions? That's what the review box is for. Or PM me, which ever please thou.**

**I wonder what age you guys think I am? Oooh, I'm a ghost! LOL, no. Can I ask you guys to leave what age you think I am in the review box? I want to see what you guys think my writing's at... **

**I want to thank JoMiSm for leaving plenty of reviews. Ahem. *starts a poem.***

_**An Abundance of Reviews.**_

_**An abundance of reviews come from thou,**_

_**so many that sometimes I wonder how?**_

_**How has thou the time to read my writing,**_

_**especially when it's not even that... Frightening?**_

**I don't know. Thor tried.**

**Thor: I DO HOPE THOU ENJOY THE POEM I HATH SCRIBED FOR YOU!**

**Tony: Yeah. I know she will. *eyeroll.***

**Insert jazz hands, or snapping. (I've never been to a poetry club before...) Add that to my bucket list, right next to: Meet Jeremy Renner and hug Robert Downey Jr. **

**Disclaimer: Don't own the Marvella. **

**Smartest Instagram username I ever heard: In Marvel at your DC. Classic.**

**Robert Downey Jr's favourite swearword?: Son of a cunt-loving whore. Precious.**

**What lulls me to sleep?: Scarlett Johansson, Jeremy Renner, Tom Hiddleston, Mark Ruffalo, Chris Evans, Chris Hemsworth, and Robert Downey Jr's voices. I play the audio of their interviews sometimes; so comforting, but I get too fangirly and can't sleep anyway. Never mind.**

* * *

If you didn't look closely enough, if you didn't see the subtle rise and fall of her chest matching her soft breathing, if you didn't see her eyelids flicker quickly over her glistening emerald eyes, you'd probably think she was dead.

But if you closed your eyes, and opened your ears, you could almost hear the pounding of her thoughts, the rush of blood in her ears, and the pain of loss and sorrow drowning in the desperation of her thoughts.

You can't tell her it's not her fault. She believes it is.

As long as she believes it's her fault, nothing can change her mind. She believes that it is her fault, and her fault alone.

She stared idly at the ceiling, making out the fine cracks and wrinkles in it without any sign of movement. He was the only person she allowed to hold her; the only person who would catch up with her if she left him; the only person who was able to guide her through the dimness of life. And he was dead.

What was she to do now? Go back to being the broken and misunderstood being she once was and continue wandering and stumbling around in the darkness? Or in other terms, lie on this cold bed, confined to it while she stared up at the synthetic lighting above her head, just above her reach.

Natasha remembers the first time she missed him. After they got together, sometimes they would have to split on different missions, and not see each other until the end of a couple of weeks. She didn't realize she missed him until she thought about it. And thus, the thought struck and stuck.

She hates romantic things; cheesy things; stereotypical things in relationships. In fact, the former Russian just hates relationships. But now, all she wants is a regular, good-old fashioned relationship, with Clint still alive and with cheesy poems and romantic shit and stupid chocolates on Valentines Day. She doesn't care if she has to wear pink dresses for the rest of her life, or even if Stark freaking dyed her hair a neon pink permanently. All she wants is to be with Clint.

She suddenly did the one thing she vowed never to do, but hey. She'd already done it plenty times this month. She let a single solitary tear fall, the restraints still digging into her skin.

* * *

The length he had to travel-even in this dreamland-to get back to the people he'd almost always been glad to get away from-except for Natasha-was offering dry amusement for Clint Barton.

This weird shadow person-or shadow creäture, he corrected in his head-was leading him down the great big swirling desert of nowheresville. Occasionally he'd call to it "hey, do you actually know where we're going", just to make sure his sanity was still in tact, but then he realized how absurd it was, talking to a shadow leading him through the desert. Clint felt as messed up as he had ever been.

The heat reminded him of the warm vents that he used to crawl through at Stark Tower. Or the Avengers Tower, it doesn't really make a difference anyway, but he liked huddling inside there and watching people. It sounds creepy, but... Okay, it's as creepy as it sounds, but Clint was certain it was for a good cause. Like when Coulson needed to pay for something that Tony had messed up, Clint would just go into the vents and fetch one of the billionaire's many golden credit cards.

As much as he hated Stark, he would surely prefer talking to him rather than just walk through a boiling hot desert barefoot.

There was a crack. A rumble. Clint stared down at the sand beneath him, and suddenly... Fell. Swirling down a hole, as if he was trapped within a giant hourglass. There was only one word that came to mind and that was-

"SHIT."

* * *

She sifts through the objects on her desk and gives Tony a disguised look that's a result of disturbance and transfusion. Traces of fear and hopelessness linger on her face, playing with her features as her shaking hand fingers over the small cream-colored envelope addressed to a certain assassin. Pepper's not okay, and Tony knows that.

So he confiscates the letter from her slender fingers and watch as her face contort and twists as Pepper tries to control her pain. Her small hands clench into fists by her side. Tony takes the letter and with an inquisitive sigh, allows Maria to pluck it out of his own hands. He gently brings Pepper closer to his body, and plants small kisses on her temples and forehead while she inhales and exhales deeply, each time with a shaky breath.

Pepper doesn't cry. At least, she doesn't at first. She just stares and tries to pace her breathing with the small clicks and hums of Tony's arc reactor, calming herself with the aid of the calming blue light. Pepper kisses it, and he smiles, something that she can't see. He's glad for her, relieved that she doesn't hate this artificial thing stuck in the center of his chest.

"Don't let the light go out," she whispers, and at first Tony is positive of what she's talking about.

He smoothed down her hair. "I won't. Pepper, I'll always be here."

She nods into his chest. Tony is quiet for a bit, just listening and feeling her slow breaths into his chest.

"When Coulson-or when we thought he did-died, my light went out."

Pepper stopped breathing even, and her mind spent the next minute and a half trying to remember how to do it again.

"And then, if you remember, at Clint's funeral-"

"Your light went out again," she finishes, voice wavering. "But it's different Tony, Coulson is alive. Clint is..." Pepper stopped herself however, trying to fix her already-beyond-repair composure. "He's not really dead, he's... Still..." And then she broke down into a number of inconsolable sobs.

There was nothing much Tony could do, just smooth down her hair and tell her that her makeup was going to be fine. Andbutso, he also started singing rather softly and kindly, just small lullabies and other various odd songs, but it seemed to be working.

It depended on what your definition of 'alright' meant.

* * *

_"How can you say your life has no value?"_

_"I'm not here for a philosophical debate."_

_"I just asked a simple question about your beliefs."_

_Her vehemence grows into something not so platonic anymore. "I am not supposed to have beliefs." She shifts slightly so that she is sitting whilst no longer leaning forward. She is almost ready. Her arms are no longer shaking._

_"I kill people," she states frankly, not a single sign of emotion in her voice, "That is my job. I do it well, and no one else can do what I do. My country needs me to maintain justice and peace."_

_"How is shooting a building full of innocent people justice and peace?"_

_That was the last straw. Suddenly, all the pent-up rage and hatred flooded out of her in one quick and violent snap._

_"They were not innocent," she hisses, and despite a still wobbling knee, springs herself on the young officer._

_His eyes that were as big as saucers and stiff posture told her that he was absolutely unprepared when she attacked, and she easily dislocates his shoulder and then pries the gun from his limp hand and light grip._

_"You see, Officer," she begins, using the title as a taunt, "No one is innocent. They ask you for more, and when you don't give it, they force you to hand it over on a fucking silver platter." She remembers death in a white room and feels the rage and helplessness that comes along with the memory, and digs the gun into the soft and vulnerable flesh beneath his chin. He swallows hard, making the gun bounce up slightly. "I had been held in that 'building' for week One woman in a hive of men. Do you know what happens in those situations?" There is fire in her eyes, and vengeance in her heart._

_There is an echoing fear in his eyes and for the first time, she doesn't enjoy seeing her victim's fear. He lies still, paralyzed with it, but manages a nod where his vocal cords failed him. "Good. Because I have red all over my hands, but so does every fucking person on this planet." And then the Black Widow pulls the trigger._

_And Clint Barton can only stare._

Lost in her memory, Natasha found herself trying to count the days until Clint comes back. Then to be reminded by the foul-smelling of chemicals of her chamber that Clint was gone. He won't be returning. Not this time. Not ever.

In spite of it having been three years since that mission, she cannot get it out of her mind. The smell of sweat, the cold white rooms, and those men's touches... She shudders, knowing that she would be lucky if she could ever forget the sight. Or the smell. The sounds. But that wasn't the worst mission. She's been through worst.

Like the time when Clint tried to kill Natasha. That wasn't an exact picnic in the park. Well, on literal terms, it kind of was, because she was literally having a picnic... In Central Park... And Clint-who had been brainwashed-jumped out of nowhere and started shooting her. It was... To say in the least, very interesting.

_The world is painted in an obsolete and opaque red._

Her thoughts came to a quick end when someone entered the room. If Natasha could bring her head up, she would be able to identify the person. But, she couldn't even move her head.

"Your partner died." She heard Maria say plainly, as if Natasha didn't know that for herself, as her voice got louder when she walked closer. "You tried to save a child from death, beating a man in public. You locked yourself in your room for a week. You then stormed out, threatened to kill both Tony Stark and Bruce Banner simultaneously if they didn't reveal the location of Director Fury to you. And then you came and shot Fury down." Maria was holding a small cream-colored envelope in one hand, face downcast with a scowl. "So trust me when I say I have good reason to be releasing you." The SHIELD agent leaned over a small desk, swiping her thin bandaged fingers over a screen, and inputting the release code. The restraints slid into the bed, and Natasha rapidly sat up, rubbing at her skin chafed wrists.

"What good reason?" Natasha asked, more demanding than simple curiosity. There were certain things she allowed Maria to get away with, but this was not one of them.

Maria gave her a glare with a certain authority in those flashing brown eyes that never seemed to waver for a second. "That is not your business."

"I don't think so," the assailant pushed, swinging her legs off the restraint bed. "You released me, so unless you want Fury to-"

"It's not Fury." Maria said blankly, her eyes whipping away from Natasha intense green starehold. "Before Clint was sent on this... Mission, Fury had a private meeting with the Council, and when he came out, he wasn't the same person. He had seemingly changed."

She held the cream coloured envelope out to the former Russian. "Do you remember before Clint was charged on this mission, he was on another?"

"Of course," The redhead swiped the letter out of Maria's bandaged fingers with her own, but hesitated tearing it open in front of her. "He told me he saw something. Something strange, but he couldn't remember."

"Why do I feel as if the Council did this on purpose?"

Natasha didn't answer. She stared away, closing her eyes and left Maria in the room alone. They both knew the answer.

Because the Council did do this. There was no proof that was needed.

For a small while, as Natasha tried to recover from the pain and the thoughts that had occurred to her in that restraining room, Natasha Romanoff forgot the color of Clint's eyes; that color of the sky that she had all to herself.

So one day, the female assassin took the unopened letter and walked out into Central Park. She sat down at a bench, looked up at the sky, and tried to remember Clint. Natasha unfurled the letter with two fingers, and allowed to pain and cool wind to seep into her bones. The words almost seemed red, as if they were written in wiry blood.

She tried to force herself to show no emotion as she started to read. No despair, no sorrow, no regret. It was a test.

And she never seemed to fail.

But if she did, who was she letting down? The people who had given it to her, or herself?

_Tasha,_

_There are many things I think back to._

_"Hospitals are where people come to die," you had said._

_"I'm not going to die here, not in a hospital, Tasha." I replied, almost as casually as I could._

_Insert bad attempt from you as you try to mask your smile and emotions. You were masking what you wanted to say: "Don't leave me Barton. Not now. Not ever."_

_But I couldn't make that promise. One of us would have to go, eventually. I would rather it be me than you who went. "You're not getting rid of me that easily," I smirked, and that earned me a glare from you._

_The solo mission before this one. Do you remember? I came back for real, and you looked as poker faced as ever, one singular solid being. But you later told me you just wanted a hug, something that horrified you. So I gave you one afterwards._

_Now, about that night I was on the mission. There were two men I saw; before the guy I was supposed to be guarding was shot. One of them I was able to take down, but the other got away. I remember seeing his face, but... I don't remember what it looked like. I saw him turn around and then... Nothing. Blank. Fuzzy._

_Just thought I should tell you._

_I can't stand being without you now. If someone told me that right after I met you we would become best friends, I would have laughed; called them ridiculous and then, I don't know. Hurt them for fun. I recall old memories with you almost every living moment. Late night stakeouts, undercover operations, disguises. But now, everything has changed. A lot._

_And I was paired with you because I wasn't afraid of being killed at night by the Black Widow. You were completely peeved by that fact and your face told me you were considering killing me. When you first came, you attracted everyone's attention like moths to a flame. Not in a good way, though._

_Maria didn't like you very much either. That's because when she first came to SHIELD, I was her first friend. I helped her find her way around the HeliCarrier, and so when you came, through her eyes, everything she felt she had built with me had been torn away from her, out of her hands and that I wasn't her friend anymore. She asked me if I knew what it was like to have someone who you care about, someone who you thought cared about you too, suddenly torn away and ripped out of your life by someone you didn't even know or like that much. And, to be perfectly honest, I thought I knew what it was like._

_But now I know. That's what it feels like with you, it's like life is the one who doesn't want us to be together. There were many times when I thought I would never see you again, but now I realize, each person is set on a different path._

_Some paths intersect with each other more than once, meeting and finally staying with one another, knowing that without the other, they can get nowhere._  
_Other paths meet only once, forever changed by the meeting._

_And then, there are those whose path loop back again and again, trying to find that one path that they had met long ago, forever incomplete and stuck without the other._

Natasha was still reading and had almost reached the end when a small bird let out a melodic song behind her. She looked up at the tree and forced a weak smile. The small bird-a beautiful color of the sky-fluttered closer and closer to her, not afraid of the human.

She was so engrossed at this little bird that when a man approached, she could only hear him when he cleared his throat. The bluebird leapt away, and jumped into flight at the disturbing aura of the man.

"He finally learned to fly," Natasha muttered as the burly man in front of her shifted. The redheaded former Russian carefully turned on the bench, looking up at him. "Can I help you-"

A gunshot. A splatter of blood falls on the letter, tainting it. The bird looks back to the spot, but sees a man walking away. The park remained empty, shrouded in silence with nothing but the whistle of the wind and the small bird's echoing song, forever stuck in Natasha Romanoff's ears.

_Each path decides where to go and what to do until the next meeting. It is only then can we understand the true weight and meaning of how much influence one small intersection between two paths can bring._

* * *

**Ugh, the Avengers' laughs... There is a crater that can be seen from space left by my ovaries.**

**Cobie Smulders needs more credit. YAYAYAYAYAY CHEER FOR MARIA!**

**Clark Gregg too. WOOHOO, #COULSONLIVES!**

**RENNERSON FOR DA WIN! WOOH!**

**Susan Downey, you are awesome because you take good care of Robert Downey Jr. And I am jealous of you because you are literally the luckiest person alive.**

**Robert Downey Jr is lovable, no matter how old you are. He also sings. Really good. Your argument is invalid.**

**Chris Evans has a funny Powerpoint on tumblr. Hilarious.**

**Jeremy Renner, a.k.a. one of your most favorite actors. How can you not love this little adorkable shit that sings well.**

**Chris Hemsworth wins the award for most bad-ass dad holding a baby daughter. Like, his daughter will have the ****_hardest_**** time dating someone because Chris will open the door and her dad's fricking ginormous and is Thor and Chris and Tom will dress up with like scepters and cloaks and talk about the nine trials of Asgard that he has to pass in order to date their daughter.**

**And he never calls her back.**

**Mark Ruffalo let a stranger woman into his car and there's this story where he's all cool and is like "Okay let's go!" and she's like "It'll never work between us." and she gives him this drawing of Tom Hiddleston and he's like "GET OUTTA MY CAR!"**

**Scarlett Johansson is just too darn perfect. If you hate Scarlett Johansson, then you don't like anything.**

**Joss Whedon. Good job on the Avengers. Good. Job. You pass in life. **

**Please review! (I'm sorry for all this spam, I was just talking to myself...)**


	8. Disbelieving

**AN: You guys, if you haven't heard Jeremy Renner sing yet, than you haven't heard beautifulness. If you listen very closely, you can hear my ovaries exploding. **

**Disclaimer: See where I write I don't own the Avengers or Marvel. **

**Jeremy Renner (SNL Avengers song): The Avengers, they're always there, from the Hulk to Iron Man, to Captain Amerrrr... *waits.* I know it's Captain America, I know that, but it's just that I needed to rhyme it with there, so I shortened it to Captain Amer. *adorable face.***

**Clint: Who are ****_you?_**

**Jeremy: Oh, wait. You actually exist?**

**Clint: OF COURSE I EXIST! WHO ARE YOU?**

**Jeremy: I'm... You.**

**Clint: No you're not! I wouldn't sing! But you do sound good. Did I say that? Uh... Make your resting face! You can't-**

**Jeremy: *resting face.***

**Clint: Oh crap that's scary. Is my resting face really that scary?**

**Everyone but Clint and Jeremy (Includes the Avengers cast and Loki): YES!**

**[Please review!]**

* * *

Is it wrong that we choose to act by human nature? Wrong that we wish to hurt the ones that have harmed us in the past? Wrong to think back to a time, and wonder what could've been?

Is it wrong that while some of us are driven by human impulse, the others being driven by the lust for vengeance? Wrong that some of us are deteriorating away from the hurt of angst and frustration? Wrong that we watch in vain as others drown into the murky depths of grief and sorrow?

Is it so wrong that we must try time and time and time again until we are finally so satisfied with our results? Wrong that if someone stands in our way, we must take them down?

How much value does a human life hold, compared to what you believe is the secret of your happiness?

It was confusing.

Do you know how it feels to be able to sense something with your mind, but not see it with your eyes?

Or to see something with your own eyes, but your mind can not bring itself to believe what you are seeing?

Is seeing_ truly_ believing?

She was watching everything. She saw everything that happened.

She just couldn't believe it.

It was like a magician's trick. Like she had turned young again, holding her mother's hand and just at the fair, watching the magic show. You would always want to know the secret, but at the same time, you didn't. You wanted to believe.

All Virginia Potts could do was stare and scream.

_The first step is misdirection. The magician will show you an object, a ball, a handkerchief or something which is seemingly ordinary._

She was crossing the grass to where she saw Natasha sitting in Central Park, and everything was fine. Until a big, burly man in a black overcoat approached the assassin.

_The magician will then ask you to observe the object; to investigate it for anything out of the ordinary. But of course, it'll be completely ordinary._

Pepper had stopped in her step as Natasha was watching a small flash of blue fly up and into the sky. She was still about one and a half football fields away, so she stood absolutely still, hoping that the man wouldn't see her.

_The magician will then take the object, and make it disappear, leaving you in wonder at how he was able to manage such a marvel. You keep searching for an answer, but turn up every time empty-handed._

She watched as Natasha turned back around to face the man, and the man moved his arm in an odd way, pointing his hand at her, letting the air crack with a loud bang that could be heard from where Pepper was standing.

_But you don't actually want to know._

Pepper bit down hard on her lip trying not to scream at the point, and she had just been hit with pure shock. She didn't know what to do first; assist Natasha, or call Tony for help. Her lip's skin broke, but the man just kept walking away normally as if nothing had happened. How was it that it was daylight, and yet no one was in that park at that time?

_You want to believe in it._

The CEO of Stark Industries was known for her cool head and quick problem-solving, but this was the one time she did something with any thinking at all. She ran towards Natasha, even though if the man turned around he could easily shoot her as well.

_Of course, the real trick isn't making the object disappear._

Her barrier of emotions dissolved for the second time that day as she watched Natasha's blood pooling on the concrete, dark and thick, the Black Widow's eyes glassy, fingers still holding the cream coloured letter. There were red spatters on the words.

_It's-_

Tony had to pull screaming Pepper away as she struggled in his grip. "NO!" She screamed, thrashing wildly. She continued reaching for her friend who lay unmoving on the concrete, tears falling down her burnt and rash face. Before, Pepper could never understand why people would have to be held away from whomever had just died. But now she knew. They just didn't want to believe it. They didn't want to let go of them.

_-about-_

Agent Hill's face was stone-cold. She didn't flinch, or blink or scream. Fury kept observing her face, waiting for her to allow a slip of emotions, but she didn't show any sorrow. Any pain, or any hurt. She just watched as other SHIELD agents carried Natasha's body away, face blank. The concrete was painted a dark, burning red that day.

_-making-_

"Why?! TONY, LET ME GO YOU HAVE TO FIND WHO DID THIS! Please!"

_-it-_

Finally, Maria reached into her pocket, pulled out yet another envelope and held it to her chest, closing her eyes for a long time.

_-come-_

"Pepper, we will find who did this. They are going to pay; just trust me. It would take literally five minutes for me to drop them off the continental shelf and made sure that they suffered enough torture before they died. Everything will be-sh, come here. Nattie will be fine, she's the Black Widow, and no one hurts the Black Widow without dying afterwards."

_-back._

The SHIELD agent stared at the letter.

"Open it," Fury urged, but Maria shook her head.

"It's not mine. It belongs rightfully to Natasha," she said, much to Fury's dismay. "Even if she is dead."

* * *

Clint snapped upright, head hitting a plank of wood. "Ow," he muttered, looking around at his surroundings.

His vehemence was only beaten by annoyance when he noticed his surroundings and the incessant tugging at his forehead. Sensors were taped to his forehead, so that whenever he tried to move his head, it would pull him and snap him back to against the chair.

Did I forget to mention the grey dentist's chair he was tied to? Yes, he was restrained to it, wrists tied down to the arms of the chair, legs pulled against the thick bottom and across his stomach was a thick leather belt strap. If he had a larger stomach, the belt would surely spill the excess fat everywhere. Yes, that sounded disgusting-he got that-but it was true.

There was a plank of wood right in front of his face, so he wasn't able to see anything in front of him, even if an axe was about to swing down. That sent a cold sweat brimming on his arms. What if someone or something was there, ready to slice him in half. He realized that was stupid, and shut up his thoughts.

There were two rules he used to live by as a SHIELD agent. 1. Don't care too much. 2. Shut up. This stopped him from crying when it was not needed; or just kept him from growing too attached to someone. And then he met Natasha, and she totally warped all his rules, changing them with her own power, and keeping him confused.

His stomach did a funny flip when he thought of Natasha. He hoped she was doing okay; and then he remembered those letters he had prepared. _Oh god, please don't tell me she did something stupid._ Maybe it didn't sound like she would, but he couldn't help but think that she might have attacked whoever was the first to piss her off and kill them, or commit a suicide or something just as equally as harrowing. _Please just let me go back and find out that she's... I don't know, maybe Tony's head has been shaven by Natasha in her rage,_ Clint had to snicker slightly,_ please don't let her be hurt._

It was the second time he wanted something so much that it hurt, and it also had to do with Natasha.

Someone approached him, heavy steps as they dragged their feet along the ground. "Clint Barton." They acknowledged, voice steely and cold-filled with something that Clint just didn't like, "It is nice to see you again."

He thought back to his rules. Although hesitating at first, Clint finally asked one question. "What do you want?" He filled his voice with anger, resentment, and hatred that was not platonic and harmless. Not like it ever was, though.

He could literally feel them hovering in front of his face like a heavy spirit, and his brain tried to conjure up an image to match this person, but he was having a hard time, only being able to base it off their voice. "I want..."

A long dramatic pause.

"YOUR SOUL!" Clint could imagine the person's face being lit up in red from underneath, and they cackled hideously. Clint didn't flinch or tense up though, he just put on his best poker face-not like the person could see it, and stared straight at the wood, which was making him dizzier than he would have liked. He felt their cold fingers brush at his hand, and against Hawkeye's will, goosebumps peppered his skin. Their touch was almost ghostly, ethereal, and Clint didn't like this either.

He decided he vehemently resented this person, indignant about them restraining him to a dentist's chair. He hated dentists in the first place, but at least now he could give Nat a good reason. A smile snuck up on him, and made its way-very discreetly on his face.

They could seem to read his mind, for they said, "Thinking about the spider, are you?"

This made Clint tense up, smile dissolving and features hardening again. "I don't know what you're talking about," he muttered, eyes staring stone-hard at the wood.

"That one is a sneaky one. Weaves lies just as quickly as she weaves webs. Looks like the spider finally made one large enough to catch the prey, the one she wanted all along."

Clint tried to ignore the person's taunts but they seemed to drill deeper into his mind with every passing second, every new word embedding itself closer and closer to being absorbed and taken seriously by him.

"Let me tell you a story," whomever was talking to him said-he couldn't tell if it was a man or a female, their voice was yet again too warped to be able to be identifiable. "There was once a hawk and a spider. The hawk was very clever, and very strong, and one day, one of the greater hawks told him to kill a threat that had caused problems and ruse. So the hawk flew to where the threat was hiding out, only to find out that the threat was nothing more than a small black spider. He didn't hurt the spider, only befriended it.

"The two got very close, but one day, the spider asked him to fly up into the tree to get something for it. So the hawk flew right up that tree; trusting the spider, but got tangled up in a hidden web, its wings caught and stuck in the sticky webbing. He twisted, only tightening the holds and cried out, asking the spider to release it. However, the spider said no.

"The hawk cried, 'Why, Spider? I have spared your life, please release me.' But the spider told him, 'You trusting me was your own choice, you sparing my life was your own will as well, no one told you that you needed to spare my life! And now, after many days of being very hungry, you have gotten tangled in my net. You have been fooled by a spider, and have not bothered to check its underside.' The spider showed the poor hawk its underside, revealing a red hourglass. This was the last thing the hawk saw before it died."

Clint tried to remind himself that Natasha would never do this, that this was just a silly child's tale, but it eerily resembled the time he was sent to kill her... But he didn't. He forgot to breathe momentarily as he remembered that she was the Black Widow overall, known for mating with the male, killing it, and then eating it, headfirst. Hawkeye shuddered, knowing full well that Natasha was perfectly capable of doing all that, but she probably preferred not to go into cannibalism. Hopefully.

The thought of her swallowing his heart made him wince.

"What do you think that means, Clint Barton?" The person asked him, drumming their fingers on his hand, cold enough to make him tense up dramatically.  
After being confounded for a second, just still trying to get over their cold touch, Clint made sure his voice revealed no emotion. "It's just a child's tale, teaching children that your friends can be your enemies."

"You seem to have heard this before," they inquired, the steady drumming on his hand still going, "Are you sure you have full meaning of this story?"

"..." Clint didn't answer, and he exhaled loudly instead. Something pulled his eardrums though, and if Clint strained them hard enough, he could hear odd clicking noises, as if they were some type of machine. "What if I do have the full meaning? What would happen then?"

"Clint Barton. How many masks must you cower behind to hide your past? Goliath. Ronin, and now Hawkeye. When will you come to face the true terms and challenges of life? You can not hide forever from death."

"You probably can't. But I can. What do you take me for, Darth Vader? I've been running and hiding my whole life-you think I can't escape another person who's trying to kill me?"

"How long do you think you can last before you burn out? Before everything you once had and knew disappears before you. Would you still have reason to keep running? To keep hiding from death?"

"I would keep running until I finally lost everything. I would gladly welcome death, after a fight of course, then maybe even drink a few beers, party a bit before, live a little. But until then, old man Grim will just have to wait his turn." Clint tried a forced smile-which was more like him baring his teeth. "After all, you only live once."

"Clint Barton, you don't seem to comprehend." The stranger conferred, this time grabbing Clint's wrist, making him flinch. "There is only one thing I want. And _that is_ your soul. I want your life Clint Barton-everything that makes you live."

"Okay, number 1. Stop calling me Clint Barton." Clint answered, twisting his hand and grabbing whoever had grabbed his wrist's back. "And secondly, you can't have it. It's mine, and I'm not sure I want to trade just yet." He squeezed harder and harder, something the person couldn't seem to do.

The person seemed to convulse and twist in Clint's dead-tight grip. "L-Let g-g-g-go of me!" There was suddenly a loud rattle, the person shaking and a huge wheeze, causing whoever it was to rapidly collapse and fall. Clint's dentist chair made a noise and the restraints slipped back into the arms, the back and from wherever they came from. The piece of wood slipped back, and he was able to slide out, absently rubbing his wrists.

His eyes practically bulged out of his head as he stared down at whatever the collapsed person-if you could say person-was. Or who it was. Clint could identify it as a life-model-decoy. That wasn't very surprising, he'd had more shocking news delivered to him. He could also identify it was a _SHIELD_ LMD. So someone managed to steal a LMD and corrupt it. Big deal. However, the most shocking, the most mind-blowing mind shocking thing of all was who the LMD chose for a faceclaim.

It was none other than Director Nick Fury.

"Oh. Shit."

And the LMD began to stir again, the robot clicking back to life.

"Crap crap crap crap crap crap crap-"

* * *

**I was talking about Jeremy Renner and his arms to my friend and she kept thinking his name was 'Jeremy Reynolds' and she said she would bring a surprise gift for me, and I was getting my hopes up thinking it was something Jeremy Renner related or Avengers related.**

**And she gives me a shirtless Ryan Reynolds poster.**

**I don't care if Jeremy Renner was shirtless. Just give me a picture of him in a t-shirt or a suit or something and I will fangirl all over your face. IN THE FACE!**

**Loki: And no one understands me... And nobody likes me or cares about me! *sobs nonstop.***

**Tom Hiddleston: It's okay, sh... Everything will be okay... Here, have some tea.**

**[Please review!]**


	9. Pepper Tries Persuasion

**Hey guys. :) So... My friend printed out all these photos of Jeremy Renner for me, and my best guy friend-I just realized-is like a young Jeremy Renner. Only thing is, he doesn't look like him and he's not an actor and his name isn't Jeremy Renner and he doesn't have like five siblings.**

**But I don't care. He sings well. Today he was picking up this kid to babysit him and I was like "Hey Reuben(the kid's name), did you know that he's Hawkeye?" **

**And Reuben says, "Who's Hawkeye? The guy with the bow and arrows?"**

**And my friend says, "Yeah he's the cool guy that we all love." The only way I could love my guy friend more was if he were gay. Honestly.**

**Clint: 3.141592654. YEAH, I DO KNOW PI! SUCKER!**

**Tony: I learned that before my alphabet.**

**Clint: Oh... Go to hell!**

**Tony: Aw nah, MERIDA! **

**Maria: Here we go again...**

**Reviews. They keep me alive.**

**Don't own Marvel...**

* * *

"CRAP." Pepper slapped her hands down hard on Fury's desk, causing him to flinch a little. The papers lifted slightly up but Pepper had the most angered face, hands gripping the sides of the desk hard enough to make the wood squeak in protest. "BULLCRAP." She repeated, fiery eyed.

Fury stared at the empty space where his laptop once was, and then at the ground where his laptop was currently, smashed, ripped apart, and still fizzing with electricity. "Ms. Potts, I understand that-"

"No. Stop talking right now Fury." She managed to hold onto her angered emotions almost as well as she was holding onto the desk. "You never do anything. Sure, you defeat the villains, you fight the bad guys you save the world. But what about those other problems-this is murder we're talking about, not just random citizen murder, but one of your Avengers, Natasha Romanoff has just been murdered. So you swab for evidence, you search for fingerprints, but I never see any punishment being served. You call yourself a Director," Pepper leaned closer, lips twisted in a cross frown. "But I don't think you're doing your job."

Tony, who was standing at the door _still_ in his Iron Man suit, broke the scary silence that echoed around the room with a "Four for you, Pepper Potts! You go, Pepper Potts!" earning a side glare from Pepper since her eyes were slightly preoccupied with glaring at Fury and a sudden outburst from Steve.

"I understood that refrence." He calls, but then slinks back into the shadows as Fury gives him an opressive look.

Pepper finally let go the table when her knuckles started thrumming with deep pains. Her fingers felt pulled. She stood straight again, and crossed her arms over her chest. The strawberry blonde didn't give up her relentless stone-hard stare at Fury, who was shifting rather uncomfortably. "Sending Clint on this mission; a Council decision, wasn't it?"

Fury nodded without another input, something unlike him.

"Get them online with me. _Now_."

He leaned forward and fingered a button on his desk, knowing full well that he could have refused or backed out on her order. But he didn't. A second later, the walls filled with the screen of the shadows of both the men and woman. Pepper's face could only get more grim.

"This is a reserved frequency, Fury. You know that unless it is the most dire emergency, you may not-"

"This isn't Fury. This is Virginia Potts, CEO of Stark Industries."

The silhouette of the man on the far right bobbed slightly, as if moving in their chair. "You have no right to summon us-"

"I believe I had every right, since this is regarding some stupid decision that you had made, and I have to argue against it." Pepper uncrossed her arms but made sure her face was as emotionless as possible.

"Fine. Speak for your case." The woman answered flatly.

The CEO was very prepared. The binder tucked under her arm was put onto Fury's desk and a couple of crisp and neat papers were pulled out. "Agent Clint Barton was sent on a suicide mission exactly two months and four days ago. He never returned; and was allegedly proclaimed dead. What I want to know, is why would you send one of your best agents, who also happens to be on the team of Avengers, on a titled _suicide_ mission."

Well shit, looks like the Council wasn't worming its way out of this one now. One of the other men squirmed in their seat and then spoke in a rather gruff voice. "It was a mission, it's basically in the job description of-"

"I haven't finished." Pepper continued, eyes narrowing at her paper. "I have also witnessed the murder of my best friend being committed with my own eyes; and I've been wondering," She leaned forwards towards the walls, turning slightly sideways at them, and continued. "Do you have to scrub my retinas for more evidence of the person who's done this? I saw them. I know who did this." She did. She remembered, after the shock of Natasha lying in surgery-and possibly dying registered.

All the shadows scoffed and the woman laughed. "Oh yes, and Ms. Potts, who might that be, pray tell."

Pepper had to spit those two words off her tongue, but even then they left a foul bitter taste. She stared at Fury as she spoke the poison-coated words.

"Nick_ Fury_."

* * *

_Her name is Natasha Romanoff._

_Her hair is a natural red._

_She has this spot on the back of her neck she likes to rub._

_Sometimes she sings in Russian, and I don't understand it, but I still love to listen._

_She dances wonderfully, but she doesn't do it in front of others._

_There's a very small nick on her left ear, right near the back of it where she got nipped once by someone throwing a combat knife._

_Sometimes she says my full name in a Russian accent just because I asked her what my name in Russian would be._

_She makes me laugh-when she least expects to._

_She's absolutely perfect._

_I love her._

_And she loves me._

_If one could run without exhausting, one might not want to do something else ever again._

_Yeah, I can do that,_ Clint thought, _it's called an adrenaline rush._

He landed a hard punch into the LMD's chest, and turned, sprinting away.

So they were in some creepy testing chamber with plenty of weird-as-hell operating knives and spoons sharp enough to take out your eyes. Scissors with odd little knobs of them stuck into walls like a decoration, and Clint suddenly decided that now was not the best time to be running around without his sunglasses.

He snatched the shiniest object he saw and threw it at the LMD's face. That was when he learned that just because the object was shiny, it doesn't guarantee that it's sharp enough to harm the life-model-decoy.

The fake Fury was furious-no pun intended-that the person whose soul it was supposed to consume was getting away. It roared, not in Fury's voice at all, and charged at Clint, who was hiding behind a dentist chair. The LMD of Fury finally landed a blow in Clint's face, calling him a stupid and ugly person and that they just wanted to consume his soul.

Clint's ego was bruised as well as his eye. He managed to grasp a large spork and stabbed it into the LMD's head while it was turned around, managing to pull out the top bald metal covering. The metal brain inside crackled and buzzed with loose wires. As the Fury robot turned around, Clint dropped the spork and pretended to whistle, trying to look innocent.

The Fury robot ran for Hawkeye, who screamed and grabbed a pair of odd scissors with comb-like teeth and stabbed it into his forehead. He pulled it out afterwards, yanking out the chunk covering his eye, revealing a creepy red blinking one almost like_ The Terminator_ in that movie that Tony made them watch. Clint dropped the scissors, leaping up onto the counter with all different colors of liquids in glass bottles. "Oh shit, can this get any creepier?"

Now blinded, the Fury LMD swiped randomly around it, looking for its new meal. "CLINT BARTON! SHOW YOURSELF!"

Being quiet and sneaky was something Clint had adapted and mastered, so he watched and waited for the LMD to make its move. It backed up slightly, head swinging around for any sign of Hawkeye. Clint held his breath, thinking of a plan. He looked all around the small and creepy testing chamber, and then did a double take on the ceiling, noticing the big sickly synthetic lighting at the top.

He couldn't help but smile as the Fury robot roared his name again. Clint kneeled partially, and sprung up to the light, his weight instantly pulling the big bar of light down. It creaked, and the LMD looked up in time to see the whole bar of light crash down onto the top of its head.

The remaining person stood up and dusted himself off.

Clint had a bunch of cuts where the glass had sliced him to bloody ribbons. He realized he had never wanted Natasha's slender small, gentle hands holding his bloody cuts. His face stung too, and he knew that his beautiful face was now mutilated. Oh well, hopefully Natasha would still manage to love him.

The LMD gave electric noises, buzzing and wires screaming with energy.

"Okay, let's put you to sleep," Clint muttered, and lifted the light off him, putting them on the LMD's feet instead. "Let's see... Ooh, this looks important!" Hawkeye yanked the first hunk of metal that was sticking out of the Fury imposter's brain insides. "And... This too!" He also grabbed a silicon chip. About to snap it, he hesitated, and stuffed it in his pocket instead, in case he needed it later. "This... Not so much. But it looks cool." He took out a small silver ring with an hourglass carved into the top of it. Clint pocketed that too.

He watched the LMD give one last wheeze as he got up, and smirked.

"I always knew I could kick Fury's ass."

* * *

_His name is Clint Barton._

_Although his hands look rough and hard, they're nothing but warm and soft in mine._

_He always tries to make me laugh-and somehow I end up making him laugh instead._

_He has this crazy habit of coming behind me-it doesn't matter what we're doing, even if we're on a mission-and hugging me from the back._

_I don't think I've ever seen him without a smile on his face._

_But that bastard broke his promise; and he went and died. Idiot._

_The only time he missed the target was when he was supposed to kill me._

_For some reason, he learned to play the guitar and the piano specifically for me, and then one day he sang me a song._

_Even if he's in the most pain, he makes sure I smile and don't suffer through any of it._

_His eyes are the color of the sky._

_His name is Clint Barton. Mine is Natasha Romanoff._

_And I have the sky all to myself._

* * *

Maria's POV: (Yeah, I decided to try something... I'll stop next chapter; promise.)

Don't call me a hero.

I don't save people.

I can't help them from themselves.

I watched the bullet hit the paper target in the chest and pulled back, placing my gun down onto the counter. I closed my eyes, hung my head and sighed.

Do you know what it feels like to watch everyone around you go mad?

To watch them rot and drown in their watery hell of sorrows while you stand and stare; knowing that if you try to help them you can probably only make it worse?

Welcome to my world.

Where everything around you is a godforsaken weapon and can be used to hurt you.

You see that lightbulb up there? I can name twenty to forty different ways someone can try to kill you with it.

That paper target in the shape of a human? That can also harm you, almost as many times as the lightbulb can.

I reached up and slid the earmuffs off my ears, causing the silence to ring louder in my ears.

"Agent Hill."

Ah, I don't think I can ever get used to that cool British voice calling out for me randomly. I'm more used to Fury screaming for me and then a swear following it most of the time.

So I slide my gun back into it's holster, hold my head high and with my goggles still subconsciously on, say, "Yes, JARVIS."

"Ms. Potts would like to see you." The AI replies.

Sometimes I wonder how long it took Stark to build JARVIS, who is basically like a supersmart invisible computer. He brags it only took him a couple of days, but I'm pretty sure it took years of tinkering and perfecting to make JARVIS the way he is now. "'Kay. Tell her I'll be there in a moment."

JARVIS is silent for the remainder of the time I put the goggles and earmuffs back, but he seems to notice my sullen expression.

"I don't mean to intrude in your business, Agent Hill," he tells me, "But you seem troubled."

I shake my head, my hair bobbing absently. "I guess I'm just worried about... Everything. Probably like always, because whether I like it or not, I can be a slight worrywart at times. Maybe I should listen to what Clint says. Shut up and care less." I manage a weak forced smile, and know that I shouldn't feel stupid for talking to JARVIS.

When the AI speaks, I feel as if I can sense a slight tone of sympathy in his voice. "I believe you have good reason to be worried about certain things; especially what happened to Agent Romanoff and Agent Barton."

There are no perfect words that can be given to me to make me feel less upset over what happened to Clint and Natasha. I quickly turn on my heel, pull out my gun and fire one last deafening loud _bang!_ at the paper target.

This time, it flies through the head, hits the wall and as far as I'm concerned, stays there.

* * *

Pepper meets Maria in the hallway, face stricken with flecks of grief and annoyance. Her mouth is twisted into half a frown and half of a thin line as she presses them tightly together.

Maria feels Pepper's mood spread over to her, and she frowns as well. "How'd it go?" Her tone is light and trying to lift Pepper's spirit.

"Ugh, the Council is probably the most conceited and..." Pepper pauses for a long time, trying to hold back her choice of words. However, they manage to slip out anyway. "Bitchy group of people I have ever talked to."

Maria couldn't help but smirk at this prim and proper CEO swearing, something that she did one very rare occasions. "So they didn't believe you?"

"Of course not, as much as they dislike Fury, they wouldn't just take what one woman says about something." She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. Pepper shook her head slightly at the memory of what the Council said to her after she told them she remembered that it was Fury who shot Nat.

_The whole Council laughed selfishly. "I'm sorry," the woman said, shaking with laughter slightly, "You said Nick Fury did this."_

_Pepper didn't seem to find this whole situation as funny as the Council. "Yes. That is what I-"_

_They interrupted her with another round of laughter, only to be joined by Fury as well._

_"Excuse me, but I-He committed a homicide!" She cried, pointing a pale slender finger at Fury, who was sitting behind his desk chuckling, "I saw Natasha Romanoff being-" Pepper stopped. She was suddenly feeling threatened by these people, but she wasn't about to let that peeve her. "Clint Barton died because of some stupid choice you made. This is a conspiracy; you are actually going to let a murder get away with this?"_

_"I apologize," another man spoke with a British accent, folding the shadows of his hands in front of him. "Please do continue."_

_"You don't believe me." Was all Pepper could manage bluntly, face trying to stay blank._

_Silence was the only answer she received._

_"What do I have to do?" Pepper snapped, picking up her binder from the table. "Does the death of two people mean nothing to you? They're humans as well; all this time I thought SHIELD's job was to protect people, but now I see human lives mean nothing to you." She confiscated the gun off of Fury's desk corner-something that he had put down earlier-and continued. "Your reputations, and images are the only things you selfish people care about. So I can only give you this advice before the Black Widow wakes up. You better get down and pray that she doesn't find you before I find you first."_

_And with that, the fiery-eyed redhead shot the camera which was recording her, and the Council fizzled away._

The SHIELD agent patted Pepper on the shoulder very lightly. "So we might have to pull more money out of Stark's budget to replace that camera. But I know that was the right thing to do. And also you were really badass with that last sentence; I think Natasha would have liked that."

"Natasha." Pepper said flatly, eyes lighting up as if remembering something. "She still in surgery?"

Maria didn't say anything, for she wasn't sure of the answer, and she wasn't sure if Pepper was speaking to her or JARVIS.

"She is in the med bay-Tony took her out of the ER this morning."

The CEO let out a long sigh of relief and looked at Maria, eyes and expression softened. "She's..."

"I'm not going to say that she's completely out of the woods yet, but I know that she'll wake up, and I think she'll be glad that you tried." Maria smiled kindly and rested a gentle hand on Pepper's shoulder. "She'll be glad."

* * *

**So uh... There's this guy, and my friends always ship him and I together and now I can't tell if he really likes me or not because he's all sweet and there's this dance coming up and people say he's going to ask and I don't know what to do and I can't tell if I like him or not and now I'm freaking out and I wish I just had my own Clint and then things would be so much simpler why life why this is the longest sentence ever okay I'll stop now if I can**

**Review?**


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